


Things Unsaid - (Pouring Rain)

by banjkazfan



Series: Things They Never Said [2]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Canon - Anime, Canon - Manga, Character Study, Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced suicide attempt - Canonical, Introspection, that line is kind of fuzzy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 09:11:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5200304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banjkazfan/pseuds/banjkazfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The things that Yamamoto never said (and maybe should have).</p><p>"Yamamoto is one of those people who never has trouble speaking his mind. ...The only times he can’t seem to speak up are when it relates to his own inner turmoil.  Even in his darkest hour, he will always smile for those who need it most."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Unsaid - (Pouring Rain)

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the second part of "Things They Never Said"! Yamamoto is my favorite character in the series, and I hope I did him justice!
> 
> That line between manga and anime canon is starting to get a little fuzzy in this series, isn't it?
> 
> I really wanted Yamamoto's to be longer, and there's more planned, but the first part between him and his father got long and out of control. At the suggestion of my husband, it got split into its own chapter.

Yamamoto is one of those people who never has trouble speaking his mind.  He’s never felt the need to hide things, and most people have always thought of him as an open and honest person.  He’s the one who smiles brightest and laughs the loudest, and what could someone as simple as he have to hide?

The only times he can’t seem to speak up are when it relates to his own inner turmoil.  Even in his darkest hour, he will always smile for those who need it most.

\---

_To his father, his grin is light, but there’s a tiny pull to the corner of his mouth that Tsuyoshi knows all too well._

Many things can be said about Yamamoto Tsuyoshi, but among them could not be the statement that he was unobservant.

He’s aware of the effect that his son has on people – god knows he’s seen enough blushing young girls come into the shop, trying to strain their necks to catch a glimpse of Takeshi as they eat their sushi.  Tsuyoshi swears the nights that Takeshi is helping him out, the tables are full of many pretty young things from Namimori Middle.

But Takeshi is oblivious.  He smiles at the girls, cheeks flushed pink from the quick pace of the dinner rush, and hands them their food.  They walk away, whispering and tittering to each other and glancing backwards to see if he’s still looking, but Takeshi is already turning his attention to his next task.

When Tsuyoshi presses him on it later, Takeshi just laughs easily.  “Girls are nice,” is all he offers before he begins wiping down the tables.

Though Takeshi has never actively tried to hide it from him, Tsuyoshi can smell out the bad test scores like he can smell out bad fish.  He always seems to know when a new one has come back, and waits by the door with his hand out before Takeshi can even greet him in the afternoon.  A sheepish smile creeps across his son’s face as he hands over the test.  They’ve done this dance before, and the teenager knows that it’s easier to just give him the paper.

“Takeshi.”  Tsuyoshi shakes his head, looking it over.  25?  He knows that Takeshi isn’t stupid; when he actually takes the time to _apply himself_ Tsuyoshi often finds himself baffled by the things coming out of his son’s mouth.  “What’s this about?  You’re too smart for this!”

Maddeningly Takeshi only laughs in that way he does so often and shrugs a shoulder.  “Yeah, Pops,” he says, “but I just need to work really hard at baseball.”

Tsuyoshi wants to tear into him, to chastise him about how important school is because he can’t guarantee a future with baseball (Takeshi’s skills notwithstanding), but something stops him.  It’s the smile on Takeshi’s face – it’s light, but there’s a tiny flicker of something tugging at the corner of his mouth, and Tsuyoshi knows it all too well.

There’s something his son isn’t telling him.

He holds off on his lecture for now and decides to see if Takeshi will offer up anything more than the glimmer of sadness in his smile – as a young boy, it was often the easiest way to get something out of Takeshi.  It’s like the boy can’t bear to sit on his own thoughts for more than a few minutes, and he would frequently seek out Tsuyoshi to tell him about one thing or another just because he couldn’t bear keeping it to himself.

Tsuyoshi begins to wonder if he’s simply seeing things when Takeshi chooses to end the conversation there and goes upstairs to change.  He shrugs and continues preparing for dinner.

It’s a few minutes later that an even more frightening thought creeps in, unbidden: he wonders if Takeshi’s been changing under his nose and he hadn’t even realized it.

He hardly sees hide or hair of his son the next few days; he’s been really pouring himself into practice.  Somehow he’s always there just when Tsuyoshi needs help in the restaurant, so he can’t truly complain.  He notices that Takeshi seems more tired lately, telltale dark circles under his eyes, but the teen dismisses all concern with the blanket excuse of “practice”.  Tsuyoshi wants to sit him down and talk about it, but there never seems to be time with how busy they’ve been lately.  By the time he goes in to talk to Takeshi one night after the restaurant is closed, the boy is already asleep at his desk, records of previous baseball games scattered across its surface.  He can’t bear to wake him with how _exhausted_ he’s seemed lately.

As he lays a blanket over his son’s shoulders and turns off the light, Tsuyoshi is sure that things will be fine, and suspects that perhaps it’s one of those phases that all teenagers go through.

He’s beginning to realize that he is dead wrong when he gets a call from Namimori Hospital a few days later, telling him that his son is being treated for a broken arm.

His throat tight, Tsuyoshi hastily leaves a notice on the restaurant doors that he will not be opening due to a family emergency before rushing to the hospital.  His mind is racing the entire time, mostly focusing on _how in the world someone as athletically blessed as Takeshi had managed to break his arm_.

When he finally makes his way to the room, he sees Takeshi sitting on the exam table, his son’s eyes darker than he’s ever seen.  The absolute _defeat_ in his posture and mien is staggering, and Tsuyoshi feels winded by it.  This is a side of his son that he’s never seen, and he’s left grasping at how to handle the situation.  Before he can step in and announce his presence, a doctor quietly excuses herself to pass him and enter the room.

At the sound of the voice outside the door, Takeshi’s demeanor instantly changes.  He perks up, a bright smile crossing his face as the doctor introduces herself.  He manages to catch his father’s eye behind the doctor and turns that smile to him as well.

Takeshi has smothered his own pain and defeat – there’s no sign of the broken boy that was there just a moment ago when he thought nobody was looking – and Tsuyoshi feels sick.

They’re at home a few hours later.  Tsuyoshi has pressed him for answers and has gotten nothing but vague half-responses in return.  Even the specifics as to how his arm became broken are fuzzy, though the younger Yamamoto chalks that up to pain and shock making his memory hazy.  (“I was practicing because that’s what I do every day after school.  No, I don’t _think_ I was doing anything out of the ordinary, Pops.  I mean, I can’t really remember; I was probably in shock from the pain, haha!  Yes, Pops, I’m fine and I just want to go to sleep if it’s not a problem with you.”)

Reluctantly, Tsuyoshi sends him to his room.  He resolves that tomorrow evening after school, they’re going to have a conversation about this and he’s going to find out why Takeshi is lying about how hard he’s been pushing himself in practice.

He’s batting 0 for 2 in the parenting department, he realizes the next day when he receives a call that Takeshi and another boy have fallen off the roof of Namimori Middle.

His knees go weak and he has to find a place to sit down and he grips the phone so tightly he can hear the plastic of the handset creak as it threatens to break.  The voice on the line hurriedly assures him that both boys are alive and well, and it was the selfless action of the other boy that saved them both.  She informs him that they’ve both been checked out by the nurse and that they appear to have nothing more than a few scrapes from hitting the ground, but that he should consider coming to pick up Takeshi and ensure that he’s not suffering from any sort of lingering trauma.

Tsuyoshi numbly asks the name of the boy who saved his son, but the voice on the other end hesitates.  She regretfully tells him that she isn’t sure of that information and he’ll have to ask Takeshi if he wants to know.

An hour later, Takeshi is at home with him, his eyes peacefully calm in a way they haven’t been in days.  Tsuyoshi knows that _something_ has changed, because that was not the same gaze that Takeshi regarded him with just 24 hours prior.  When Takeshi blinks that soft golden gaze that looks so much like his mother it _hurts_ , tilts his head, and sheepishly apologizes for causing him so much trouble, Tsuyoshi snaps.  A choked noise escapes his throat as he reaches out, grabbing his son and crushing him against his chest.

Takeshi lets out a surprised sound in reply, but allows himself to be moved.  His head comes to rest against his father’s shoulder instinctively despite their equal height.  He feels his father’s hand curl at the nape of his neck and Takeshi’s breathing hitches.  Their family has always been close, and Takeshi himself has always been touchy-feely, but for his father to openly show affection like this is so _rare_ that it leaves him cold.  Takeshi grits his teeth against the stinging of his eyes, but finds it hard to hold back when Tsuyoshi’s other hand rests against his head, his father’s fingers tangling into the black shocks of hair.

Tsuyoshi isn’t stupid.  He _knows_ that Takeshi is too coordinated to have tripped and fallen off the roof.  And combined with the beaten, hollow look that Takeshi had worn in the hospital, as well as the thinning false smiles of weeks past, Tsuyoshi knows that something huge has happened right under his nose and he didn’t see it – or perhaps, he didn’t _want_ to see it.

He’s failed, and Takeshi is the one apologizing to _him_.

Tsuyoshi’s hand slides down to Takeshi’s back as he holds him close in a way that he hasn’t done since Takeshi was a baby.  “Don’t,” he finally manages to say.  “Please, _don’t_ , Takeshi.”

Takeshi shifts his good arm to return his father’s embrace, and they stand together in silence for a long few minutes, just feeling each other breathe.  He only nods in reply to his father’s words, and when they finally part, there’s a smile – a _real_ smile, one that Tsuyoshi hasn’t seen in what feels like months.

What is left unsaid is “ _I made a mistake, but I won’t hurt you again, because I love you.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time to read - it's always incredibly appreciated! In addition, I'm still new to the fandom, so any suggestions would be gratefully accepted!
> 
> (Preview for the next section: what Yamamoto never said to Tsuna, and what Yamamoto never said to Squalo.)


End file.
